silent_writer

Note: Johnny learning a new language for Filipino!Reader.

Hi! Ever since I watched Fantastic Four: First Steps and saw Johnny learn an entirely new language in, like, a week, it literally inspired me to write this. And yup, I’m Filipino, so… here it is.

As always, a quick reminder: I’m still very new to writing, and English isn’t my first language. Thank you! lovelots!

Summary:

“Wait,” you said, staring at him. “So you understand what I’ve been talking about you?”

“Yes.”

“You learned my language?” Your voice dropped. “A completely new dialect in just a week?”

“Well,” he said, lips curling into a small smile, “in just two and a half days of meeting you, babe.”

You shook your head, still stunned. “Wow. Why?”

He didn’t hesitate.

“So, I could understand you in every way that I could.”

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You met Johnny Storm in the least Johnny Storm place imaginable — the library. What surprised you wasn’t that he was there, but how naturally he fit into the space. You only caught a glimpse of him then — his table layered with books on math and astrophysics, stacked neatly, like he knew exactly which one he’d reach for next.

You went back to your task, skimming shelves in search of a specific comic book. You weren’t even sure it was here. You walked past aisle after aisle until you finally found the section.

The book you wanted sat on the top shelf. You stretched, fingers brushing the edge, almost— almost—reaching it before frustration hit.

“Bakit kasi sa taas nila nilagay,” you murmured under your breath. Why did they put it on top

You didn’t notice him move at first. The chair scraped softly against the floor somewhere behind you, footsteps approaching just as you dropped your arm back to your side.

“Here,” a voice said, close but not startling.

The book slid free from the shelf above you, placed carefully into your hands.

You turned to find the same guy from earlier — the one with the stacked books and quiet focus — looking at you like this was the most normal thing in the world.

“They really don’t think about height when they do this,” he added.smile slightly tugging at his lips

He glanced down at the cover before letting go completely.

“That one’s good,” he said. Not like a promise. More like an observation. “Or at least, that’s what people say.”

You huffed softly. “I hope so. I’ve been looking for it.”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicked to the shelf, then back to you. “You new here?”

You nodded. “Just started coming around.”

“Thought so,” he said. “I haven’t seen you before.”

There was a small pause before he added, “I’m Johnny. Engineering.”

You told him your name, shifting the comic under your arm. “Law.”

He repeated your name softly and made a double take “Law?” brows lifting slightly.

“What?” you said, smiling as you nodded toward your own table, stacked with codals. “I can’t do some light reading?”

A soft laugh left him at that, quick and genuine. “Fair enough.”

He shifted the books in his arms, already turning back toward his table. “Guess I’ll leave you to your light reading.”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling to yourself. “I guess.”

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You didn’t see Johnny again until the next week.

The library was busier than usual, voices low but constant, every table already taken by groups and solo students alike. You walked through the rows once, then twice, realizing there wasn’t a single space left where you could fit yourself in.

That was when you saw him.

Johnny stood near the tables, books balanced in his arms, scanning the room with the same quiet focus you remembered, only now it was edged with defeat. His shoulders sagged just a little when he realized what you already had.

Neither of you had a table.

His eyes found yours across the room, and he closed the distance between the two of you, books still tucked in his arms.

“Still two weeks till finals,” he said quietly, glancing around, “and it’s already this busy?”

You sighed, shifting your own books. “Tell me about it.”

Johnny looked between the packed tables, then back at you, like he’d already made up his mind. “Do you wanna go to the coffee shop instead?”

You blinked, surprised then nodded. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

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It started as a routine before either of you named it.

The library when it was quiet. The coffee shop when it wasn’t. Johnny with his engineering books spread out, you with your codals stacked neatly beside you. Different programs, different buildings, different deadlines — somehow always the same table.

Some days you left first, law readings heavy and unforgiving. Other days he packed up early, muttering about labs and problem sets. You never kept score. You just adjusted.

One afternoon, you were halfway through a case when you realized Johnny wasn’t reading.

You looked up. “What?”

He blinked, like he’d been caught. “Nothing.”

You squinted, tilting your head. “Buti na lang gwapo ka.” good thing you're handsome

“What?” Johnny smiled, amused.

“Oh—” you said quickly, waving it off. “I meant, you’ve been staring for a while.”

He held your gaze a second longer than necessary, smile still in place, something thoughtful passing behind his eyes before he looked back down at his notes.

“Yeah,” he said lightly. “Sorry.”

He smiled, “We’re never in the same building. We don’t even have overlapping classes.” He gestured between your books and his. “Different programs. Different schedules.”

You waited.

“I was wondering,” he continued, voice steady but careful, “if I could stop pretending this is just studying.”

Your heart skipped. “And do what instead?”

“Ask you out,” he said simply. “Officially.”

The noise of the coffee shop faded into the background. You closed your book slowly.

“Like… a date?”

“Like a date,” he confirmed. “No notes. No deadlines.”

You smiled before you could stop yourself. “I’d like that.”

His shoulders relaxed, the smallest grin breaking through. “Good. Because I already had a place in mind.”

You gathered your things, standing beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Different programs. Same table.

From then on, meetings like this became your thing.

Not by chance. Not because there was nowhere else to go. But because you liked the way it felt — sitting across from him, sharing space, trading quiet looks over open books. Different programs, different buildings, different schedules, all somehow bending toward the same place.

Now, something more.

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You underestimated how heavy the stack was until it started slipping in your arms.

“Okay— wait—” you muttered, shifting your grip. “Grabe, ang bigat!” Its so heavy!

Before the books could slide any further, Johnny was there, hands steady as he lifted half the stack from you.

“Careful,” he said, easy. “You trying to break a record?”

You sighed in relief. “Law school is trying to break me.”

He smiled, then glanced down at the titles in his arms. Codals. Tabs. Notes peeking out.

“Where to?” he asked.

You pointed toward the far table. “There.”

As he walked beside you, he glanced over, just once, at you.

Not confused.

Just thoughtful.

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You dropped into the chair across from Johnny with a sigh, toe nudging his foot under the table as you settled in.

“Bad day?” he asked, already sliding your coffee toward you like a habit.

“You have no idea.” You twisted the lid open, shaking your head. “Recitation today.”

He winced. “Cold call?”

“The worst kind,” you groaned. “I knew the answer. I knew it. I just—” You gestured helplessly. “I couldn’t find the right words in English.” slouching your shoulders.

Johnny leaned back, eyes on you, giving you his full attention.

“I swear,” you continued, frustration slipping into your voice, “do you know how smart I am in my language?”

“I do,” he said softly.

“If I could’ve answered in tagalog, I would’ve gone on forever.” You paused, then muttered, “Ang dami kong gustong sabihin, tsaka alam ko yung tamang sagot, eh” pouting I could've said a lot, and i know the right answer

You sank back into your chair, fingers tapping against your cup. “But instead I froze. And the professor just moved on.”

Johnny reached across the table, thumb brushing against your knuckles before leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead — slow, familiar.

Hey,” he murmured. “Knowing it still counts. Even if you didn’t say it perfectly.”

You smiled, leaning into him just slightly. “Yeah.”

But you still went on, words spilling out like you hadn’t finished emptying the frustration yet. “I got an eighty-nine. Isang point na lang, ninety na sana.” You groaned, dropping your head forward. “But no. Nakalimutan ko pa talaga.” One point, and I could've gotten a Ninety. But no. i forgot

Johnny just smiled, amused.

“You’re telling me you’re upset about missing one point?” he said. “That’s… kind of impressive.”

You shot him a look. “You don’t get it.”

“Oh, I think I do,” he said lightly. “You’re mad because you almost nailed it.”

You sighed dramatically. “If I’d answered in tagalog, I swear—”

“—you’d be top of the class,” he finished, teasing.

You paused. “Hey.”

He laughed, soft and warm. “Relax. I’m just saying — you did great.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Bwisit. Buti na lang mahal kita.” Annoying, it's a good thing that I love you.

The words left you before you could stop them.

You froze.

“Still cute when you’re annoyed,” he murmured. Johnny tilted his head. “Hm?”

Your heart stuttered. You cleared your throat quickly, waving a hand. “Nothing. Just— me being dramatic.”

He studied your face for half a second longer than usual, like he was replaying the sound of it in his head. Then he smiled, easy, familiar.

“Yeah,” he said lightly. “I figured.”

You let out a quiet breath, shoulders relaxing when he went back to his notes, pen tapping against the page.

He didn’t ask what it meant.

Didn’t tease you about it.

But the smile stayed just a little longer than it should have — like he was holding onto something precious, something meant just for him.

And you, thinking you were safe, leaned closer to him without a second thought.

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You didn’t notice the way Johnny went quiet after that.

You walked back to your dorm together, talking about nothing important — classes, deadlines, which coffee place stayed open the latest. He made sure you got inside safely, waited until the door closed behind you before turning away.

It wasn’t until he was halfway back to his place that he realized his face hurt.

He was smiling.

Not the easy, teasing kind. Not the one he wore without thinking. This one was slower, settled, like something had finally clicked into place.

“Bwisit. Buti na lang mahal kita.”

The words replayed in his head, clear as day.

Johnny shook his head to himself, huffing out a quiet laugh as he unlocked his door. He set his books down, ran a hand through his hair — still smiling like he’d been given something precious he wasn’t supposed to have.

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You were both sprawled on his bed, notes abandoned between you, the room lit only by the glow of a desk lamp. You were venting again, words tumbling out in a familiar mix of English and Filipino, hands gesturing as you spoke.

“…and then he just moved on,” you finished, exhaling sharply. “Ang unfair.”

Johnny hummed beside you, absent-minded.

“You’ll get it next time,” he said easily. “Hindi naman ikaw yung may kasalanan.”

Silence.

You turned slowly.

“What did you just say?”

He froze. Just for a second.

“I—” He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay.”

Your heart started to race. “Wait,” you said. “So you understand what I’ve been talking about?”

“Yes.”

“You learned my language?” Disbelief crept into your voice. “A completely new dialect in just a week?”

“Well,” he said, lips quirking, “two and a half days, babe.”

“Why?” you whispered.

He reached for your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“So I could understand you,” he said quietly. “In every way that I could.”

You were still staring at him when he added, softer this time—

“And yes,” he said, meeting your eyes, “mahal din kita.”

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You met the Fantastic Four before the world ever knew their name.

Reed was all restless brilliance, already thinking three steps ahead. Sue was warm in a way that felt intentional, like she was making space for you on purpose. Ben had laughed easily, clapping Johnny on the shoulder like this was just another adventure waiting to happen.

And Johnny— Johnny was still yours.

That last meeting was cramped around a table that didn’t quite fit everyone, cups sweating onto scattered papers. Johnny’s knee bumped yours under the table, familiar and grounding.

“Space,” he’d said, like it was nothing. “Just a quick mission. In, out. 

You rolled your eyes. “You make it sound like a group project.”

He grinned. “Basically is.”

He walked you back to your dorm that night. Slower than usual. Like he was memorizing the route. He kissed your forehead before you went inside, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“Wag mo ako kalimutan, ah” you teased. Dont Forget me

“As if I could,” he said.

Then they launched.

The accident changed everything.

Maybe what altered his genes altered his memories too.

Because Johnny stopped calling. Stopped writing. Then he just… stopped.

Time moved forward without asking your permission. News reports filled the gaps where his voice used to be. The Fantastic Four became legends. Johnny Storm became something unreachable.

And somewhere along the way, saving the world introduced him to Shalla-Bal.

Now you sit in front of the television, watching a live broadcast. Johnny stands in front of her, easy but focused, posture all intent and responsible. When she speaks, he listens carefully, answers her in a language that isn’t English — not soft, not intimate, just precise. Measured. Necessary.

For the world.

The commentators call it diplomacy. Cooperation. Another miracle of the Fantastic Four.

You know better than to mistake it for anything else.

Still, your chest tightens.

You thought that was your thing. Him learning your language for you. For the way your thoughts made sense there.

But it turns out, it was never just yours.

Somewhere in the universe, Johnny Storm learned a new language to save the world.

And forgot the one he learned to love you.

And you were a language he no longer remembered.

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Pairing: Johnny Storm x BFF!Reader

Note: Hi, me again! Here’s the last part to Date? (part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4)

Sorry, this took a while, but I just want to say how much I appreciate all the likes, reblogs, and comments. Thank you so much—they genuinely mean a lot to me.

As always, a quick reminder: I’m still very new to writing, and English isn’t my first language. Thank you! lovelots!

Summary: Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, pacing slightly. “Is it mean if I… wished their date goes bad?” “Yes, that would be very mean, Johnny,” Sue said, crossing her arms. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d asked her out years ago.” -------

The headline stared back at you, cruel and polished.

WHO WILL JOHNNY STORM BRING TONIGHT?

Attached a photo with Johnny and the model with the same matching color. Not together, Different pictures, But matching. 

Your chest tightened. You let out a heavy breath. So he’d made his choice?

James glanced at you from the corner of his eye, quiet, observing. He saw the pause in your shoulders, the way your fingers hovered over the screen, the faint flush creeping into your cheeks. And then a bitter realization hit him.

She still liked him.

He gave a small, understanding smile, leaning back in his chair. “You should go talk to him,” he said lightly, almost casual, as if it were nothing. “Before you agonize over headlines and colors and matching dresses.” he took a look at the screen “plus i don't even think its the same place”

You blinked at him. “James—”

He held up a hand, teasing but gentle. “Relax. I get it. I think everybody does” giving you a gentle reassuring smile. “ Don’t lose him.”

A sly grin flickered across his face. “And hey… if things don’t work out, I’ll still be here. Coffee. Complaints. Lab disasters. You know the deal.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your chest easing slightly, even as the weight of the gala and Johnny’s choices still pressed on you.

Everything at the gala was glowing—chandeliers, soft music, clinking glasses, laughter bouncing off the polished floors. Johnny had done his speech for the event, charm and energy carefully curated for the cameras. But now, tucked into a quiet corner at the bar, he nursed his fourth drink, the amber liquid warming his hands and doing little for his nerves.

Then he saw you.

And his chest dropped. Your eyes, your smile, the slight pink in your cheeks—you were glowing. Everything around Johnny blurred—the chandeliers, the music, the laughter—all of it fading into a haze. His breath caught when he noticed: you weren’t wearing the dress he had picked out, the one he’d imagined matching with. It panged him deeply, a sharp, twisting ache he hadn’t expected, because all he could see was you… with someone else.

“Oh… that’s a surprise,” said a soft voice behind him. He glanced to see Sue’s assistant, drinks in hand, smirking just a little. “I always thought you would end up together.”

Johnny stiffened. The words weren’t even directed at him, but they hit harder than anything anyone could have said directly. Good together. Together.

Johnny stayed near the bar, body leaning just slightly against it, hand wrapped loosely around a glass. it takes longer for him to get drunk—so he wasn’t stumbling, not exactly—but the warm burn in his chest and the slow buzz in his head were undeniable. He barely entertained anyone, nodding politely, smiling faintly, but his eyes kept drifting, drifting to you. 

The party was thinning out. Guests murmured their goodbyes, waiters gathered empty glasses, and the glitter on the floor caught the last light from the chandeliers. The clinking and chatter that had filled the room felt distant, almost irrelevant.

And yet, he hadn’t danced with you. He hadn’t even gone near you. Johnny stayed at the bar, carefully keeping his distance. He wants to. God, he really wants to but he didn’t want to ruin your night with his feelings—not like this, not like now, when his chest felt like it might burst every time you laughed or looked at someone else.

Your eyes kept roaming the room, searching for something familiar—blond hair, blue eyes, a presence you could feel even before you saw it. The air felt warmer here. It always did when Johnny was around, coldness eases to warmth.

“I think he’s over there,” James said quietly, nodding toward the stairs near the side hall.

You followed his gaze.

Johnny was sitting on the steps, elbows braced on his knees, shoulders slumped in a way you’d never seen before. The fire was still there—faint, restless—but dimmed. Like he was holding himself together by sheer will.

Your chest tightened.

James noticed immediately.

He exhaled, soft, almost fond. “Hey,” he said gently. “It’s now or never.”

You hesitated. “James—”

“I’m serious,” he cut in, not unkindly. “You’ve been looking for him all night.”

You swallowed. “Are you… okay with this?”

James smiled, small but sincere. “Yeah. I think I always knew.” Then, with a teasing tilt of his head, “Besides—if it doesn’t work out? I’ll still be around.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Go,” he said, nudging you lightly. “Before you regret not trying.”

You nodded once.

And as you crossed the room—past the empty glasses, the glitter scattered across the floor, the echo of a party that was already ending.

“Hey,” you said lightly. “Pretty sure this is the saddest place to sit at a gala. Thought I’d save you.”  you offered him a hand

Johnny looked up—and something in him broke open.

For a second, he forgot how to breathe. The noise, the lights, the ache in his chest all fell away, leaving only you. Close. Real. Angelic in a way that made his throat tighten. gosh , you’re angelic

He was still hurting. Still afraid. Still convinced, somehow, that he might already be too late.

But you were here.

Johnny swallowed hard, fingers trembling as they wrapped around yours. 

He hesitated, like the words weighed more than they should have. His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles, grounding himself.

“Dance with me?” Johnny whispered. The words were soft, almost uncertain—nothing like the man the world saw on magazine covers. His thumb traced a slow, absent circle against your hand, like he was afraid that if he let go, you might slip away again.

There was no music anymore. Just the soft clink of glassware being cleared away, the low hum of voices fading into the distance. The lights were dimmed now, shadows stretching across the empty floor. No audience. No cameras. No expectations.

Just you and him.

You glanced around, then back at Johnny, lips curling into something soft. “There’s no music,” you pointed out gently.

“We don’t need it,” Johnny murmured, already guiding you toward the empty dance floor.

“Johnny, I—”

“No,” he said gently, stopping and turning to face you. “Me first. Please.” 

The word wasn’t a demand. It was a request—raw, careful, almost fragile. His hand lingered at your waist like he was afraid to hold you too tightly, afraid you might disappear if he did

He took a breath. Then another.

“I let you watch me choose everyone but you,” he said, voice low, strained. “You stayed and I assumed you always would.”

Your throat felt tight, like every unsaid thing you’d swallowed over the years was pressing all at once. You stared at the floor at first, then back at him—really looked at him—and it startled you how undone he seemed.

Johnny wasn’t posturing. Wasn’t joking. He looked smaller somehow, shoulders tense, eyes searching your face like he was bracing for impact.

“And that’s the part that hurts the most,” he continued. “Knowing I taught you to settle for that. Knowing I stood right there and let you believe you were asking for too much, when all you wanted was me to choose you back.”

He swallowed hard, chest rising unevenly.

“I see it now—every time I brushed it off, every joke, every ‘it’s not like that.’I made you feel small. Replaceable.” His voice cracked. “And I hate myself for it.” 

You lifted your gaze. He noticed immediately—he always did. His breath stuttered when he saw the way you were looking at him: guarded, hurt, but still there. Still listening. That alone seemed to wreck him.

“I hated it—hated that it took someone else standing beside you for me to realize I couldn’t keep calling you just my friend. That I was losing you.” His hands curled at his sides, fingers flexing like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“It kills me to see you with someone else,” he admitted, honest to the point of pain. “To know someone else gets to stand where I should’ve been. I get jealous. I get angry. I spiral.” A bitter huff of breath. “I don’t get to pretend I don’t.” Johnny swallowed hard, chest tight like someone had wrapped a vise around it. His eyes never left yours.

Johnny swallowed hard, His eyes never left yours.

“I… I hate it,” he said, low and shaky. “Every second I thought you might care about him more than me. It’s not fair. I’ve been pretending I don’t feel it… pretending I can just stand back and watch you laugh,” he

flinched remembering how tight his heart felt when he heard you laugh with james.” watch you be with someone else—while I stayed quiet, too scared to mess things up. But I can’t do that anymore. I won’t.”

He stepped closer, hands clenching at his sides. “Being near you—seeing you, hearing you, just… existing with you—it’s a kind of gravity I can’t escape. And the thought of someone else standing there, taking that place—my place—it makes my chest burn. I don’t want to fight for you because it’s some game. I want to fight for you because… I can’t imagine it any other way.”

“I’d trade my fire,” he said quietly,lifting his gaze at you. “Just to go back. To undo what I did to you.”

His gaze dropped, jaw tightening as if saying it out loud made it real.

“Canceling plans. Leaving early. Making you feel like you were always waiting on me.” A breath, shaky. “I didn’t see it then. Or maybe I did—and I convinced myself you’d understand. That you always would.”

“My apologies aren’t enough,” he said quietly. “I know sorry doesn’t undo the nights I made you feel invisible, or the times I let you doubt yourself because I was too afraid to be honest.”

He exhaled, shaky. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m asking for a chance.”

His eyes met yours, unflinching now.

“A chance to undo the hurt I caused. To show up where I didn’t before. To be better for you.”

A beat. Your heart thudded painfully.

Something in your expression shifted, your lips parting slightly, your eyes glassy. He saw it and took a hesitant step closer, slow, careful, like you might vanish if he moved too fast.

You searched his face, really looked at him this time. The familiar confidence was gone, replaced by something raw and scared and painfully sincere. For the first time, he wasn’t performing. He wasn’t filling the space with heat or humor.

You softly took his hand, cradling it between both of yours. 

“You hurt me,” you said softly. “You made me feel like an option. Like I was something you could come back to when it was convenient.”

Your thumb brushed over his knuckles, the gesture tender despite the ache in your voice.

“And no matter how badly you broke my heart… I still kept looking for your warmth.”

Your eyes lifted to his, glassy but steady now.

“You make greasy burgers feel like a five star meal, you make walking down an uneven street feel like skipping across rainbows. You make my world interesting but also so familiar, like every ordinary moment was quietly waiting for you to turn it into something unforgettable. And somehow… I always knew I’d come back to you.”

His jaw softened. “Then I guess I’m lucky,” he said quietly. “Because I’ve waited a long time to hear that, and I’ll spend every day trying to deserve it.”

“Then…” you murmured, voice quiet but certain, “I guess you’d better live up to your promises.”

Johnny let out a breath that turned into a soft, almost disbelieving chuckle. It hitched halfway through, like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it in. His hand hovered for a second before settling at your waist, careful, reverent. 

“Yeah,” he said, forehead tipping down toward yours. “I will.”

It always would be Johnny.

The years you’d built together were indestructible in a way that terrified and comforted you all at once. No matter how far he drifted, no matter how long he took to see you, that history never loosened its grip.

He was the reason you never said yes to anyone else. The reason every almost felt wrong. The reason you kept waiting, even when you told yourself you were done.

You were the reason he never took anyone else seriously. The reason every flirtation stayed shallow, every name blurred together. The reason he chased distractions instead of commitment, convincing himself it was easier than admitting the truth.

Because when it came down to it, no one ever felt like you.

 You’d choose his chaos over anyone’s calm. His fire over anyone else’s certainty. You’d choose his blues—his storms, his brilliance, his mess—because somehow, they had always felt like home.

Johnny’s breath stuttered at your words. His bravado, his sarcasm, every carefully built defense cracked clean through. For once, there was nothing flashy about him—no jokes, no heat, no escape.

Just a man standing in the quiet aftermath of a party, realizing he had never been competing with anyone else.

Only with his own fear.

His hands found yours again, slow and reverent, like he finally understood the weight of what he was being given. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, grounding himself.

And then, without a word, you moved closer. The empty ballroom stretched around you—half-lit, the glitter of the party still clinging to the floor, but no music was needed. Because your beating hearts had already found the rhythm. Your bodies swayed together, slow and natural, as if the years had been rehearsing this moment all along.

And in the middle of it all—half-lit, imperfect, unfinished—you stayed.

And so did he.

He was your Johnny, always will be.

-----------

pairing: Johnny Storm x BffReader

note: hi me again, here is the part 4 to DATE?. part 1 part 2 part 3

note just new at writing so might be messy?

Summary: Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, pacing slightly. “Is it mean if I… wished their date goes bad?” “Yes, that would be very mean, Johnny,” Sue said, crossing her arms. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d asked her out years ago.”

I don't know about you but i love jealous johnny:P ----------

The next day, the city felt quieter than usual, soft sunlight spilling over the sidewalks. You and Johnny walked side by side, neither rushing, the usual chaos of the lab a distant memory. It was just the two of you, the faint hum of traffic in the background, the occasional chirp of a bird.

“And he tried to win me the red stuffy but-" you cut off yourself laughing while telling him stories of you and James at the carnival

Johnny’s hands were shoved deep in his jacket pockets, his jaw tight. He didn’t speak at first, letting the tension hang in the air, waiting for you to notice.

Then he spoke, teasing at first, but there was something sharper beneath it. “Wow… so you’re replacing me then.”

You paused, eyebrows lifting, spinning to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” that caught you off guard.

He exhaled, gaze flicking away for a moment before returning to yours. “Come on. You barely have time for me now. Our things—our plans—they’re all becoming yours and James’. It’s like I'm not even here and I- I don't like it.”

You hesitated, fingers twisting the strap of your bag, words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “It’s not—it’s just… he already bought tickets, and I didn’t want to cancel, and I just… I didn’t want to be that person, you know? I just didn’t know how to say no, and he was really excited about it”

“But you cancelled on me? And I was excited about it too” Johnny’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyes softening but still intense. Something different. And it felt way warmer now

“So,” you said, voice right now, vulnerable, “if I do that, it’s bad… but if you do it, it’s just… nothing?”

Johnny froze, chest tightening. The words hit harder than he expected, and suddenly the quiet city felt smaller, pressing in.

“What?” he whispered, disbelief mixed with something sharper.

“I mean,” you continued, rambling slightly, “I never complain about you and your other girls. Cancelling plans, showing up late, ditching early… but if I cancel once, it’s suddenly a big deal.”

Johnny ran a hand through his hair, voice low, rough, a mix of frustration and something softer. “You really feel like that?”

You looked at him, exasperated. “What do you want me to do, Johnny? Ignore him? Ignore his effort?”

“No,” he said immediately. “I just—” He exhaled, jaw tightening. “I don’t want you to forget me. I don’t want to be replaced.”

That word landed heavier than he meant it to.

He stepped closer anyway, voice steady but edged with something raw. “I want to go with you. To the gala. Not someone else. Me.”

You laughed, sharp and disbelieving. “Why now?” you shot back. “Why are you asking now, Johnny—when someone else already did?”

You dragged a hand through your hair, frustration bleeding through every movement. “You’re only saying this because someone beat you to it. Because for once, I’m not just—” you gestured vaguely between the two of you, “—waiting. waiting on you.”

Johnny shook his head quickly. “No—no, that’s not—”

“You hate it,” you interrupted, voice tight, “that I’m not just focused on you anymore.”

His mouth opened. Closed. He looked genuinely rattled now.

“That’s not fair,” he said, quieter. “I just didn’t think—”

“Exactly,” you said. “You didn’t think you had to.”

You looked away, swallowing. “I can’t just turn James down now. Not when it’s tomorrow. Not when he actually asked me.”

Silence stretched between you—thick, unresolved.

Johnny stood there, fists flexing at his sides.

And you—still standing there—weren’t moving toward him either.

It's out there now. Why not address all unsolved issues, right?

Your voice dropped, hesitant but sharp. “And… What about the rumours? The photos with that model, the gossip… why wouldn’t you just ask her then?”

Johnny froze, then blinked, disbelief written across his face. “Ask her? Why would I do that? And why… why would you actually believe that nonsense?”

You frowned, eyes watering, frustration bubbling. “How could I not believe it, Johnny? It’s always happening right in front of me. Every time, someone new, some headline, some photo… and I’m just supposed to ignore it?”

“They never mean anything,” he said, stepping closer, jaw tight, voice low but firm. “None of them compares to you. And I’m tired of you not seeing that. Tired of you thinking I don’t care, or that you’re second.”

You blinked at him, flustered but still holding your ground. “Because you never did anything to make me see that.” you weren't expecting this nice sunny day to turn to a full-blown argument

Johnny couldn’t find the right words—because there weren’t any. Not ones that could explain why he’d waited until now. He’d always told himself it was different with you. That you’d understand. That you’d still be there.

“I’ll see you at the gala, Johnny,” you said quietly.

Not angry. Not soft either. Just… enough to hurt.

He stood there as you walked away, watching your figure disappear down the street, the space you left behind feeling heavier than the argument itself.

It wasn’t resolved. It wasn’t over. It was paused—

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

---------

soo gala is next!

pairing: Johnny Storm x BffReader

note: hi me again, here is the part 3 to DATE?. part 1 part 2

note just new at writing so might be messy ? and i badly need to think of a better title for this

Summary: Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, pacing slightly. “Is it mean if I… wished their date goes bad?” “Yes, that would be very mean, Johnny,” Sue said, crossing her arms. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d asked her out years ago.”

----------------------

The lab the next day was colder.

Not unpleasant. Just… different.

James was already there, glasses perched low as he focused on his screen. When you greeted him, his face lit up—open, unguarded.

“Hey,” he said. “I was hoping you’d come in early.”

You worked side by side. Quiet at first. Then easy conversation. He listened when you spoke, really listened—asked follow-up questions, remembered details. At one point he made a joke so dumb you snorted before you could stop yourself.

““Okay. That’s dumb,” you laughed—freely.

Johnny walked in just in time to hear it.

The sound hit him wrong. Too easy. Too familiar. It felt like stepping into cold water without warning. He stopped just inside the doorway, heat flaring under his skin, eyes instinctively locking onto you.

That line.

That’s dumb.

It had always been his.

Something you said to him—whenever he over-explained, whenever he joked too hard, whenever you were smiling so wide you had to look away. It wasn’t just a phrase; it was a rhythm you shared. An inside thing. Muscle memory.

And now you were saying it to him.

To glasses.

Your laugh lingered, soft and.. real, the kind Johnny had spent years earning without even realizing it. The kind that used to be reserved for late nights in the lab, burnt cookies, stupid jokes that shouldn’t have worked but did.

His chest tightened.

You were smiling. Head tilted. Relaxed.

Not the polite smile you give strangers.

The real one.

His jaw tightened.

James glanced up and caught Johnny watching. Straightened slightly. Said your name, softly, like it belonged to him.

Something twisted in Johnny’s chest.

He forced a grin, tossed out a “Morning,” like everything was fine. Like the room didn’t feel smaller. Like it didn’t hurt—actually hurt—to see you laughing like that with someone else. That laugh was his. Something in him turned.

“Guess I missed something funny,” Johnny said lightly.

You turned, still smiling—still warm—and that was what hurt the most.

Because it wasn’t meant for him this time.

Johnny held the smile in place, hands in his pockets, posture easy. The heat under his skin had nowhere to go, simmering instead of flaring.

He watched you turn back to James, watched the way your shoulders relaxed, the way you leaned just a little closer when he spoke. Not intimate. Not obvious.

Something in Johnny’s chest shifted—quiet, decisive.

I can’t let this keep happening.

He just needed a chance—one clear, honest chance.

The carnival. It’s tonight. He’d tell you there.

Not a confession, not a speech—just something real. Something that would finally put words to years of almosts and maybes. He’d already rehearsed it in his head, something stupid and simple, something that sounded like him.

—----

You caught him just outside the lab, jacket already on, keys dangling loosely in his hand.

“Hey—Johnny?”

He turned immediately. Always did.

“Yeah?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around your bag strap. “About tonight. The carnival.”

His chest tightened instinctively. “Yeah?”

You exhaled, words coming faster now, uneven. “I—James asked if we could get dinner instead, and I already said yes earlier, and I just—” You stopped, then shook your head. “He already bought tickets.”

Johnny just stood there. 

“Oh,” he said lightly. “Makes sense.”

““It’s not—” you rushed on, clearly nervous now. “It’s just dinner. I mean—and then the carnival. I still wanted to go with you, obviously, but it felt weird backing out when he already planned everything, and I didn’t want to be that person, you know?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said quietly. “I get it.”

He does not.

Not really.

He shifted his weight, jaw tightening. “I mean—” He stopped himself, then tried again. “Couldn’t it… wait?” him? james? Don't cancel on me.

You blinked. “What?”

“Couldn’t it be another night?” Johnny asked, voice tight, trying to sound casual.

Your brows knit together, confusion giving way to something more careful. “Why?”

Johnny opened his mouth.

This was it.

Because I was going to tell you something.

Because I’m tired of pretending.

Because it’s always been you.

The words crowded his throat, loud and burning, desperate to get out. He swallowed, fear winning over courage.

“Never mind. That was dumb,” he muttered, forcing a laugh.

You hesitated, taking a small step closer. “Johnny…?”

“It’s fine. Really. I just—uh, forget it,” he said quickly, stepping back just enough to hide the way his chest ached.

There was a pause. You fidgeted with your bag strap, glancing down. “I’m sorry. Rain check?”

Johnny smiled automatically, the kind of lazy grin he always used when he didn’t trust his voice. “Yeah,” he said. “Rain check.”

You lingered for a moment longer, like you were waiting for him to stop you. He didn’t.

As you turned and walked away, the truth hit him like ice water.

She didn’t cancel on James for me. She cancelled on me for him.

But because he showed up. Planned ahead. Claimed the space Johnny had always assumed was his.

Johnny stayed where he was, keys clenched tight in his fist.

For years, he’d thought being irreplaceable meant being important.

Now he understood he was running out of time.

—----------------------

This dinner was supposed to be normal. That was the problem.

The kitchen was warm, lights low, Ben complaining about the sauce, Reed discussing what’s his next topic for his fantastic science show. Sue moved easily between them, setting plates down, listening with a half-smile that meant she was paying more attention than she let on.

Johnny sat back in his chair, He stabbed at the food absentmindedly.

“So,” Ben said around a mouthful, “the carnival open yet? City’s been buzzing about it all day.”

Johnny stiffened. “Yeah,” he said shortly.

Sue glanced at him. “Didn’t you say you were going?”

Johnny’s fork scraped the plate—too loud. “Plans changed.”

Reed looked up briefly. “Ah. Scheduling conflicts are statistically—”

“Not that,” Johnny cut in, sharper than intended.

Silence. Just for a beat.

Sue studied him now, really looking. The way his knee bounced under the table. The way the heat in the room ticked up a degree when he exhaled.

“She went with James,” Johnny said suddenly.

Ben blinked. “The intern?”

“Yes,” Johnny snapped, then sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Yes. That James.”

No one spoke.

Sue set her glass down carefully. “Johnny.”

He laughed once. It sounded wrong. “It’s fine. Really. I told her to go.”

“But?” Sue prompted.

He looked at his plate, at the food going cold.

“But she didn’t cancel on him for me,” he said quietly. “She canceled on me for him.”

The words felt worse out loud.

Ben frowned. “Kid, that—”

“I know,” Johnny said quickly. “I know what it means.”

Sue leaned back against the counter, arms folding. “Then say it.”

Johnny swallowed. “It means she’s done waiting.”

The kitchen felt smaller after that.

Reed cleared his throat, uncomfortable. Ben suddenly found his food very interesting. But Sue didn’t look away.

“You don’t get to be surprised,” she said gently. “You had years.”

Johnny nodded once. “I thought I had more time.”

Sue’s expression softened—not with pity, but with something closer to disappointment. “You never do.”

she said calmly. “ you’re still acting surprised.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Sue continued, voice steady but firm, “you’ve spent years letting her orbit you without ever pulling her in.”

Johnny stiffened. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Ben cut in gently. “You show up late. You bring other girls around. You assume she’ll just… stay.”

Johnny opened his mouth. Closed it.

Surprisingly, Reed talked in “From a purely analytical standpoint, Johnny, you’ve created ambiguity. Humans don’t thrive in ambiguity.”

“She waited,” Sue continued, softer now. “For a long time. And now someone else is stepping up.”

Johnny’s chest tightened painfully.

“What if I already lost her?” he asked quietly.

Sue met his eyes. “Then you live with that. Or—” she paused, deliberate, “you stop being afraid and do something.”

And just like that, Johnny knew he had to do something. No more waiting. No more letting fear win.

He was not losing you.

------------

pairing: Johnny Storm x BffReader

note: hi me again, here is the part 2 to DATE?. part 1 note just new at writing so might be messy ? and i badly need to think of a better title for this Summary: Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, pacing slightly. “Is it mean if I… wished their date goes bad?” “Yes, that would be very mean, Johnny,” Sue said, crossing her arms. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d asked her out years ago.”

---------------

The next morning, Johnny arrived much earlier than usual. Too early.

He pushed into the lab with a paper bag in hand, grin already plastered on his face like armor. He spotted you immediately—standing near your desk, half-turned toward the door—and relief flickered through him.

Then he noticed you were laughing.

Not with him. With his newly decided nemesis, the intern. James.

Johnny’s smile faltered for half a second before he forced it wider. The intern was leaning against the counter, talking too fast, hands moving as he joked. Trying too hard. And you—God—you laughed. The sound hit Johnny straight in the chest.

“Cookies delivery!” he announced loudly, cutting straight through whatever James was saying as he dropped the bag onto your desk.

You turned, you knew he was here, it always get warmer when he’s around. “Cookies?” smiling 

You peeked inside, grabbed one, and took a bite without hesitation. Johnny watched your face like it was a test.

“From Ben?” you asked, holding the cookies up. It was a dark chocolate cookies

“Nope,” he said, chest puffing just a little. “From me.”

You paused mid chew. Then frowned. “Johnny… that’s burnt.” 

“Okay, wow—mean,” he said quickly. “It doesn’t taste that b—” You grimaced harder. He stopped. “…Oh. Yeah. That’s bad. Too sweet. Definitely burned.”

Before he could defend himself further, James stepped in, holding out a cup toward you.

“Hey, I grabbed you a coffee,” James said. “Thought you might need it.”

Johnny’s eyes dropped to the cup instantly.

“Is it… iced?” Johnny asked, already taking it from James’s hand.

“Uh, no, just black coffee—”

“She hates that,” Johnny said flatly, taking a sip himself. It was awful. Bitter. Wrong. But that wasn’t what twisted his stomach.

How dare he ask her out—when he barely knows her?

“Oh,” James said, visibly flustered. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” you said quickly, smiling, waving it off like it didn’t matter. 

James murmured another apology before retreating back to his station.

Johnny cleared his throat and leaned a little closer, voice bright. “Hey… there’s that new carnival opening later. We should go.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I can’t. I have the date, remember?”

Johnny froze for a split second. “Oh… right.” cancel on him and go with me? He had to physically stop himself before those words left his mouth, 

“Tomorrow night, then?” he asked, hopeful.

You shook your head, tapping your fingers on the desk. “Can’t. I have to shop for a new dress… for the gala.”

Johnny’s grin widened, mischievous. “Perfect. I can come with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Really? You’re volunteering to help me pick a dress?”

“Of course! Someone has to make sure you don’t pick the wrong color. Can’t have that,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly.

“Okay. Tomorrow night. Now do you mind, Johnny? I’m trying to work here,” you said, already turning back to your screen. “And I think you should be too.”

His beeper went off—urgent.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Instead of leaving, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

You froze. Surprised. Flustered. Your cheeks warmed, color creeping in before you could stop it.

Johnny didn’t explain. He just pulled back, glanced at your face once, then turned and walked out.

Across the lab, James noticed it—the pause, the blush, the way Johnny Storm left 

—--------

Johnny’s mind kept replaying the morning.

She smiled at James like that? He flinched at the thought. And laughed at his stupid joke? He groaned. She always laughs like that. But to me, to my stupid jokes. Not to his.

Every little interaction he remembered—the polite tilt of her head, the way she gestured when she spoke, that easy smile—was twisting in his chest. He tried to focus. He needs to focus. --------------------

You were still wandering through the mall, racks of dresses stretching in every direction. Johnny trailed a few steps behind—or maybe beside you—smiling, holding a few hangers, trying to act casual.

“So… how was it?” he asked again, glancing at you.

“The date?” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Yeah,” he added, voice light, trying not to let his chest tighten. “Did he get the coffee right this time?”

Johnny has to physically stop himself from asking too many questions. Did he bring flowers? Your favorite? Did he ask questions, or is it all about him? Did he make you laugh? Do you… like him?

The coffee date with James had been… nice. Polite, easy conversation. He was attentive, charming in his own way. But he wasn’t Johnny. Not even close. “It was nice.” you simply replied.

“So… he’s nice?” Johnny asked cautiously, trying to sound casual as you sifted through a rack of dresses.

“Yeah, nice smile, gave me roses and coffee isn't too bad” you said, summarizing the date, smiling faintly, changing the subject as you picked up a dress from the rack. “Now… what color should I go with? Blue again?” remembering what he said the night before 

“Roses?” Johnny muttered, voice tight, eyes narrowing just slightly. “He… gave you roses?” not your favorite.

You glanced up, surprised by the edge in his tone. “Yeah… I mean, i could start liking roses, it's a nice flower”

Nothing really memorable. Nothing that made her laugh. Nothing that elevated the moment.

“So… boring then?” Johnny asked, trying to hide the small smile tugging at his lips. He Didn’t know he was that good at manifesting. And now he is manifesting is you falling deeply in love with him. Perfect plan. He should light candles and start taking manifestation seriously.

“I didn’t say boring,” you said, tilting your head as you held up a dress. “It was just… polite. I guess we were just testing the waters or something. I don’t know.”

Yes, it had been boring—because all you could think about was Johnny. Every smile, every polite laugh, every sip of coffee had him in your mind. And yet… you were tired. Tired of waiting for him to realize you were there, always there. Tired of holding back your feelings, of pretending that a polite, pleasant coffee date was enough. You wanted change.

Johnny, of course, had no idea. His eyes flicked to the dress in your hands, to the tilt of your head, and a flicker of jealousy shot through him. But even if he noticed, he had no idea how close he was to losing you entirely.

“This,” he said, holding it up. “You’d look good in this.” it's perfect since he already has his suit in this color. Perfect matching.

You laughed softly. “Johnny, I already picked one.”

“Doesn’t mean this one’s wrong,” he said, shrugging like it was nothing. Like his voice didn’t soften just a bit. “Humor me.”

He took it to the counter before you could protest.

“Johnny—”

“Paid” he cut in quickly. “Special edition rules. No returns.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips curved anyway. He always did this—acts of care wrapped in jokes so no one could call them what they really were.

His phone buzzed.

Johnny barely glanced at the screen, but you caught the way his shoulders tensed—just slightly. He flipped the phone over on the counter, face down, like it could wait.

“Everything okay?” you asked, casual.

“Yeah,” he said too quickly, already handing his card to the cashier. “Just—work.”

You hummed, unconvinced but letting it go. You always did.

The receipt printed. He grabbed the bag, pressed it into your hands like he was afraid you might hand it back.

Then the phone buzzed again.

This time he checked it.

“Oh—” he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I gotta go. Shoot got moved up. Like… now.”

You blinked. “Already?”

“Apparently models don’t wait,” he said with a half-smile, already stepping backward. “Something about lighting and timing and a very angry photographer.”

You laughed softly. “Of course.”

He hesitated—just a second too long—eyes flicking to you, to the bag in your hands, like he wanted to say something else.

Didn’t.

“I’ll text you later, yeah?” he said instead.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Good luck.”

He nodded, gave you that familiar two-finger salute, and turned on his heel—already pulling his jacket on, already slipping back into the version of himself the world expected.

You watched him go, the weight of the bag heavier than it should’ve been.

You didn’t know it yet, but by the end of the night, that same shoot would be everywhere—headlines, comments, a blonde draped casually at his side. Close enough to invite speculation. Clean enough to deny.

He always leaves.

And there’s always someone else there when he does.

And Johnny wouldn’t explain.

he never did

-----------

pairing: Johnny Storm x BffReader Note: Hi! This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written- scratch that, the first story I’ve ever written, period. And somehow, I started with a Johnny Storm fanfic. I’ve been reading so many amazing works here, and they finally inspired me to try writing myself, so… here it is. Major apologies if this is a bit messy, and English isn’t my first language. Enjoy? and pls be nice. its nerve wracking posting this. might delete the app lol

I wrote this while fully palpitating. I originally planned a short jealousy-angst piece, but it somehow turned into a 24-page, unfinished draft with a 6k word count. and i feel this is like way too long. but hey first fanfics are not expected to be perfect.

Summary: Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, pacing slightly. “Is it mean if I… wished their date goes bad?” “Yes, that would be very mean, Johnny,” Sue said, crossing her arms. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d asked her out years ago.”

------------

The lab is quieter than usual, colder, and only a few lights are open. by the time you finally saved your work and leaned back in your chair, eyes flicking to the clock for the third time in ten minutes.

Johnny’s late. Again.

Can’t blame him though, right? And besides, you're already used to it.

You’d met him back in college, long before the Fantastic Four, long before the fire and the headlines and the way people’s eyes lingered on him a second too long now. Back then, he was just Johnny. Your Johnny. 

You packed your things slowly, Notebooks, Messed up notes, the blue pen he gave you. Bag already set and ready to leave, but you still can’t put your foot to leave, still waiting for a name to pop up on your phone, maybe some excuse already half-typed. He always had one. An interview that ran long. Sue needed help. Reed needed something fixed right now. Or sometimes, just a distracted, “Sorry, I lost track of time.”

Ding

The elevator door opened, , and for half a second, your heart lifted

Is it johnny?

No. just the new intern. He’s James. Dark framed glasses,blue eyes, and dark hair. Tablet and a coffee in his hand, as his gaze fixed to you, he readjusted his glasses to look at you.

“Hey, you're still here,” he said, surprised with a slow smile. “I thought i was the only one”

“Yeah, just waiting on a friend,” you smiled, waving your phone gracelessly. 

He nodded, and went straight to his desk which was just one desk apart from you. quietly finishing his work, occasionally asking thoughtful questions about yours. It was easy. Comfortable in a way you hadn’t expected. 

After a moment, James glanced at the time on his tablet, then at the quiet lab around you.

“So,” James began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “are you going to the gala next week?”

The FourFundraiser Gala. The one you always went to. With Johnny—but never as his date. Never that.

“Yeah,” James continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “Reed mentioned it earlier—donors, press, the whole thing.” He hesitated, then glanced at you, softer now. “I don’t really know anyone here that well yet.”

There was a beat.

“I was—uhm,” James said, shifting in his chair, words tumbling over each other now, “do you… have a date?”

You blinked, surprised by the careful way he asked.

“I mean,” he rushed on, then stopped himself, exhaling, “would you want to go with me?”

The question landed gently. No pressure. No assumption.

Just an ask.

You smiled despite yourself. You were used to being asked out—used to saying no, to laughing it off.

But this felt different.

“Maybe,” you said slowly, tilting your head. “A coffee first?”

James’s face lit up, relief obvious. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’d like that.”

“Then,” you added, softer, “we’ll see.”

Before either of you could say more—

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open.

Johnny Storm stepped out, jacket slung over one shoulder, short blond hair slightly messy like he’d run a hand through it one too many times

“Hey,” he said, grinning automatic—until his eyes flicked between you and James.

And paused.

“You’re late. Again.” You cut through the awkwardness easily. “You owe me, what—five books now? And Ben’s baked cookies.”

Johnny huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay. Fair.” He sighed. “Sorry. I got held up at this fan meet-and-greet, and my phone died. I think someone stole my charger. But—I should’ve sent you a text.”

His eyes flicked briefly to James, then back to you, like he was trying to place where exactly he’d walked in on something.

James turned back to his work quietly, giving you both space without being asked.

Johnny noticed it immediately. 

He also noticed the faint flush on James’s cheeks—barely there but telling. The way the intern always tried a little harder when you were around. The jokes that landed softer, the way his attention never drifted when you spoke.

It wasn’t subtle.

“Am I interrupting something?” Johnny asked lightly.

“What—no,” you said quickly, already standing, already reaching for your things. “If we still want to try that burger place, we should probably go before they close.” changing the subject

You slung your bag over your shoulder, the movement decisive.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said, glancing back at James.

He smiled. Small. Genuine.

As you stepped closer to Johnny, the air around you shifted—just slightly warmer than it had been moments ago. You’d never really noticed it before, not consciously. Johnny’s presence always did that.

As if on instinct.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Johnny echoed under his breath, mockingly, as you headed for the door. -------

The burger place lived up to the hype—grease-stained wrappers, shared fries, laughter that came easily, like it always had. Johnny told stories that made you laugh so hard your sides hurt, and for a moment, it almost felt like nothing had changed.

Almost.

It wasn’t until you stepped back out into the city that the noise faded. The streets were quieter now, lights softer, the air cooler as you walked side by side. Johnny insisted on walking you home, hands shoved into his jacket pockets like he always did when he didn’t quite know what to do with them.

Halfway down the block, he slowed.

“Oh,” he said suddenly, stopping altogether. “I almost forgot.”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a book.

Not just any book.

Your favorite author. The special edition—the one with the illustrated cover, sprayed edges catching the streetlight just right. You noticed the signature before you even registered the weight of it in your hands.

Johnny watched your face carefully as you took it, like he was bracing for something.

“I saw it and thought of you,” he said, casual, like it hadn’t taken effort. Like he hadn’t remembered every detail. “Figured I’d give it to you tonight.”

Your chest tightened. “Johnny… this is—” You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to.” your smile hurting your cheeks "wow" smiled breathlessly while examining the book

“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to.” he was proud, he managed to get that smile. no other reward could match that.

“I think that covers up the five book debt I owe?” he added.

You walked on after that, appreciating the book. The laughter from earlier had faded, replaced with something gentler, heavier. One street away from your place, Johnny stopped again.

Hands back in his jacket pockets.

So,” he said, staring straight ahead, “what was that with you two?”

You turned to face him. “Oh. I think I just said yes to a date.”

He finally looked at you then—and for a second, his heart stuttered. The streetlight caught your eyes, and something in his chest cracked just a little.

“A date?” he repeated, carefully.

“Yeah,” you said, rambling now, nerves creeping in. “He asked about the gala—if I had a date, if I wanted to go with him. I said maybe a coffee first. Then we’ll see.”

“Oh,” Johnny said.

The word felt thin.

“I thought you were going to bring one of your friends,” he added quickly.

“Yeah, I already asked,” you shrugged. “They’re busy.”

He took a step closer, then stopped—caught between instinct and restraint.

you continued walking, spinning slightly so you could face him. “What do you even do on first dates, anyways?” you rambled, hands gesturing. “Do you like—just ask a bunch of questions?”

“Mmhmm,” Johnny hummed, eyes on you. He noticed the familiar rhythm—the way you always rambled when you were shy or nervous. It made him want to reach out, to hold your hand, but he stayed still.

Turning back to the sidewalk, walking ahead, you muttered, “Maybe I should have said yes when they asked me out back in college.”

Johnny’s mind raced. Of course, he remembered those moments back in college—how other people always asked you out, right in front of him. Every time, you politely smiled, politely declined. He had

always quietly enjoyed those moments, seeing you turn others down… but now, he could not understand why you said yes.

By the time you reached your front door, the night had grown still. You fumbled for your keys. “Thanks, Johnny, for the book. You always know me. And no,” you added with a grin, “you still owe me four books.”

Johnny’s grin was lazy, but his eyes lingered on yours. Of course he knows you, he thought. You were all he thought about. “So… no more baked cookies from Ben?” he teased.

“Still cookies from Ben,” you said, sliding the key into the lock.

And then, just as you were about to step inside, your voice faltered slightly, but curiosity won over:

“Should I… wear a dress?”

Johnny froze for a heartbeat, heart heating in ways he hadn’t expected. That small question—innocent, casual—twisted his chest in an unexpected, familiar way

The night air felt warmer, somehow, and you noticed it—Johnny always made the space around him feel a little warmer, but not like this. Not with this tension, this… something unspoken stretching between you.

Johnny didn’t know what to say. His brain scrambled. His mouth, even more so.

“Uh… yes,” he said finally, trying for steady. But even he could hear the hesitation in his own voice.

“Red?” you asked, tilting your head, curious.

“Blue,” he blurted out way too quickly, then immediately tried to save it. “Uh… you look good in blue.” you do. Especially when it is his hoodie you're wearing. 

He cleared his throat, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, wishing he could disappear—or at least stop his heart from thudding so loud.

“Okay.” You smiled at him, and for Johnny, everything slowed down. God, it was always like this when he was around you—the world blurred, the noises of the city fading into the background.

The streetlight caught in your eyes, and maybe he was imagining it—but he swore he saw them twinkling.

Night, Johnny.” You closed the door.

He stood there for a moment, stunned. He’d lost it—completely lost it. His chest tightened, thoughts tumbling over one another.

He started walking, just aimlessly, letting the city swallow him up. Then it hit him—he should go home, and before he knew it, he was there. Landing lightly on the balcony, he staggered just a little, heart still racing, before heading straight for the kitchen.

Sue was there, leaning against the counter.

“Are you drunk?” she asked.

“No!” Johnny shot back, indignant.

“Then what’s with the face—and the landing?” she pressed, eyebrow raised.

Johnny immediately jumped up, urgency taking over. “Could you… fire an intern?”

Sue tilted her head, taken aback by her brother's question. “What? And why would I need to fire an intern?”

“Because… he asked the love of my life out!” Johnny groaning

Sue blinked, then frowned. “No. We can’t do that.” She turned away, then immediately faced him again. “She said yes?”

Johnny slumped, shoulders falling. “Yes.”

Sue froze for a heartbeat. She knew you. You never said yes. Not because you weren’t asked—because you’d liked someone else all along. Sue knows that. 

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, pacing slightly. “Is it mean if I… wished their date goes bad?”

“Yes, that would be very mean, Johnny,” Sue said, crossing her arms. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d asked her out years ago.”

Johnny groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know! I didn’t- i almost did, asked her out, it's just... I don't want to mess things up. not with her.”

Sue raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “And now?”

Johnny’s eyes fell. “And now… I think I might have already lost my chance.”

Johnny couldn't sleep that night. He couldn't stop thinking about you. Maybe if he wasn't late, you would not say yes to glasses, maybe he should've bought the book set instead, maybe he could still change your mind about your date.

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